


Five Hours Is All I Have (Five Hours Is All We Need)

by popcornstorm



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phan, Phandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Death, Existential Crisis, M/M, So much angst, death au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 02:11:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9695210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popcornstorm/pseuds/popcornstorm
Summary: Death AU in which everyone has the exact time and day they will die written on their back. Phil, with only five hours left in life, ends up meeting Dan, who has the opposite problem.





	

**Author's Note:**

> And we're back, with another 10 Days of Phanlentines. Ok, be warned, this fic is drastically different than the others because it's really angsty. Like (tw death) Major Character Death Angsty.
> 
> Shoutout to @deletablebird for being my bae-ta ayeeee

Phil should have never indulged his nostalgia and walked into his family’s old bar. He should have turned around he saw the shiny sign that had replaced the Lester’s old one. He should have left when the bartender barely looked up from the counter as he walked in, the whole room strangely empty. And he definitely should have ran far, far away as soon as his eyes laid on the figure slumped on the bar in the back, a pint of alcohol held precariously in their hand.

But he didn’t, because something in his dying soul told him it was worth it. When he had only less than five hours left to live, the time tattooed so clearly on his back, Phil chose to forgo the normal dying routine and go to a bar. So he sat on the stool beside the stranger, extending a hand towards him. 

“Hi, I’m Phil.” He introduced, expectantly waiting for a response. When a few seconds passed, and he didn’t, the bartender gave him a knowing shrug. Phil allowed his arm to hang by his side, feeling a little rejected. 

In a crisp, Northern accent, the bartender said: “Aye, he never says anything. Just comes in asking for alcohol, then passes out like the drunk he is.” He shook his head, returning to wiping the counter.

In an act of defiance, the stranger lifted his head, revealing sunken, brown eyes under a mop of equally brown hair. “But you don’t kick me out, ‘cause I’m your best customer.” Turning to Phil, he remarked: “Come here every night, I do. I’m the only thing keeping this dingy place alive.” In a fit of insanity, or perhaps just alcohol, he laughed too loud. The sound echoed through the empty bar, intensifying the awkwardness of the situation.

“So,” the stranger grinned maniacally, extending his hand. “I’m Dan, local drunk, doomed to live to a ripe old age.”

Phil introduced himself again, finding this whole ordeal so awkward and pathetic that his skin crawled at the thought of staying. And still, his body refused to move.

“I’ll have a drink,” he called out. “Just, whatever’s on the tap.”

Dan smirked drunkenly. “Really? I pegged you to have a more . . . interesting drink.” He tapped a pale finger on the counter, signaling another shot sent his way.

“Well,” Phil smiled wryly, “Not all of us can be dark and mysterious.” A glass was set down in front of him, and he took a sip.

The brown haired man shrugged. “I don’t try to be so alluring. It just naturally happens.” He shook his head, looking like he was debating something in his head. “Anyway, I gotta go piss.”

Dan stood up and left, leaving a half-empty drink in his way. 

As the bartender picked up the glass, he remarked: “That’s the most I ever heard him say. You really sparked something outta him.” 

“I don’t really find that to be intelligent conversation, if I’m honest.” Phil disbelievingly said, taking another sip of his drink.

“Well, that’s pretty damn close to smart talk for him.” The bartender shrugged, wiping the rim of the glass with a dirty towel. Phil made a mental note to stop drinking from his beer.

The other stranger bent down. “Listen, here’s a word of advice. Dan’s a sad man, and judging by his tattoo, he’s gonna be sad for a long time. But just now was him experiencing something other than miserableness.” He absentmindedly looked up at the bathroom door, making sure Dan wouldn’t be walking back in. 

He whispered: “Maybe you could take the time to just . . . help him somehow? Just for tonight?” The bartender fidgeted with strap of his apron. “You just kinda . . . end up feeling sorry for the guy when he comes here to get wasted every night, you know? Do something for him, for me.”

At that moment, Dan walked back in, looking marginally less drunk. The bartender whispered: “The name’s Dillon, but everyone calls me Dil. Go get him, Phil.” As if nothing happened, he turned away.

“Put the drinks on my tab.” Dan said, his monotone words making it seem like it was something he did often. Before he could leave, Phil grabbed his arm.

“Hey, um . . . do you want to go to the fast food place down the road? It’s probably not healthy to drink so much without ingesting some solid food.” He convincingly looked at Dan’s face, and the other hesitated.

The drunk looked like he was going to refuse, before reluctantly nodding. “Alright, let’s go. I can’t deny free food.”

(Four hours)

-

The fast food place, like the bar, seemed abandoned. Then again, 2 AM wasn't exactly the optimal time for fries. With a sigh, Phil grabbed Dan's hand and entered the restaurant.

To his surprise, the brown-haired man complied. A strange thought passed his mind, the whole situation reminding him of his past girlfriend, a bright blond that left him years ago. There hadn’t been other partners since, every attempt at romance failing because his proximity to death made him afraid of commitment.

God, now wasn’t the time for crying and regret. Phil didn’t even know why he was doing what that bartender ― Dillon, was it? ― said. Death really had a way of screwing up priorities.

Oblivious to Phil’s inner dialogue, Dan sat down at a booth. “Just order whatever,” he told the black haired man, suddenly seeming much more sober.

“You were acting a lot more hammered earlier,” Phil remarked offhandedly, looking up at the menu in contemplation. 

Dan shrugged. “Sometimes, I act a lot more drunk than I am, so Dil takes pity on me and lets me stay. Haven’t got any other place to sleep anyway.” 

The comment made Phil’s heart break. It was absolutely horrible that he was so dead when he was dictated to be living a long while longer. All Phil wanted to do was cover him in a blanket and protect him from the rest of the world. 

From the back, an employee called out: “Be right there!” They popped out, their Tumblr session probably interrupted by the two’s entrance. Phil couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

As he ordered, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dan was staring at him. Not in the creepy way he expected it to be, but it eerily reminded him of the kind of wonder he used to feel at the tattoo on his back. He used to be so excited to find out what date and time it would show when he turned sixteen. Now, looking at it filled him with dread.

A few minutes later, Phil brought back to their booth a tray of burgers and fries. Dan looked at him in confusion. “Really? This much for just us?”

The black haired man shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I can’t afford it.” And it really didn’t matter if he became vegan in his dying hours. That’s just how death worked. 

Dan cocked his eyebrow. “So . . . you’re one of those people then.” He casually grabbed a fry and popped it into his mouth.

Phil stared at him in confusion. “What does that mean?” Following the other’s lead, he also grabbed some food and ate it.

“Well, you know.” Dan looked out the window, the moon shining at him from it’s place in the sky. “Rich. Probably a CEO of some company that will become really famous later on. Someone I can’t be.”

Phil shook his head. “Even if I was, there wouldn’t any point.” He winced a little at the awfully dark words, but the other didn’t seem to notice the gesture.

“So you’re a cynical type, like me.” Dan leaned forward a bit, ignoring the food in front of him. “You hate the idea of death tattoos, and you wish we could live life in peace without having to know when the Reaper takes you.” His brown eyes started to show more spark, and there was a noticeable, growing liveliness in his movements.

Again, Phil shook his head. “Some of that’s true, I guess. I’m not a fan of these tattoos that spell my fate . . . but I’m not normally this ‘cynical’. It’s just the occasion, I guess.”

The two ate in silence. Most of the fries were gone when Dan laughed out loud. “God, Phil, you sure know how to be damn intriguing.”

“Uh . . . what?” The comment startled Phil, causing him to almost choke on the fry he was eating. 

“I don’t know anything about you,” Dan continued, purposefully not looking at the blue eyes boring into his face. “Yet, you pick up the mess at the bar and take me to a midnight snack. If I didn’t look like shit right now, I’d say you were taking me on a date.”

Phil flushed red. “I mean . .  . we are both here because I think you’re interesting.” And it was true - Dan seemed to have his own gravitational pull. 

“Hey,” the brown haired man offered. “Talk to me about stuff. It’s the least I can do, considering you got me dinner that isn’t too trash.” He smirked, his too-long brown hair obscuring his eyes.

“Oh,” Phil turned pink again. “Um . . . I’m Phil, I guess. I work as a writer, because it makes me happy and it makes me forget about . . . life, or what’s left of it. That’s kind of all there is to me.”

Dan disbelievingly raised his eyebrow. “Really? Nothing on family, friends, partners, or whatever?” He rapped on the table like it was a habit, almost like someone playing the piano.

“They’re …” Phil trailed off. “I haven’t got a partner . . . not many friends either. And I just got my mom and my brother, but we haven’t talked in awhile. Actually ― ” he furrowed his brow. “I just visited them . . . but I guess I’m here now.”

“Of course,” Dan deadpanned. “I’m fantastic company.” Something in his expression hinted at a different emotion laced in his words than just sarcasm, but it went unnoticed.

“Well, you are,” Phil replied truthfully. His words had some sort of effect on Dan, because he didn’t respond for a while. The tray of food between them slowly emptied.

“I guess you’re okay too.” Dan seemed so much more different than the person he was when Phil first walked into the bar. Silently, their hands intertwined.

(Three hours)

-

The two were on the streets again. It was a little after 3 AM, yet the streets were deserted, probably because of how quiet the town was to begin with. 

Quietly, Dan whispered, “What do you want to do next?” Somehow there was an unspoken agreement that the rest of the night was theirs to do with. 

“I don’t know,” Phil answered, the street lights next to them doing little to actually illuminate the scene. “What’s there to do here?”

“Nothing, really,” Dan looked around the street, but there wasn’t anything that was open, save for some 24 hour bars. The scene looked like something straight out of some aesthetic picture. 

“Hey, look,” Phil pointed to the park up ahead. It looked awfully nice to be at ― the darkness couldn’t hide the soft grass, their stalks extending up towards the starry sky. 

They walked towards it, Dan snidely remarking how awfully cheesy the whole thing was. “I’m lactose intolerant,” was Phil’s reply.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Dan asked, as he sat down on the grass. He looked at Phil expectantly, his brown eyes just as starry as the sky above them. 

The black haired man sat down next to him, replying: “If I can’t have dairy, then, by default, I can’t do anything too cheesy.” He ran his fingers through the blades of the grass, not meeting Dan’s eyes.

Dan snorted. “That’s not how it works . . . and that pun wasn’t funny,” he said, despite his utter failure at  hiding his giggles.

“If I say that’s how it works,” Phil asserted, lying down to look up at the night sky, “then that’s how it works.” He winced a little. “God, I feel ridiculously high on carbs right now.”

“Same,” Dan drawled, glancing over at Phil’s face. “It’s just . . . the weird shit that’s happening now makes me want to be a teenager again and contemplate life and existence.”

“What’s stopping you?” Phil closed his eyes, feeling some part of him start to drain away. “We have all night . . . have an existential crisis with me.”

“Maybe not now,” Dan said, absorbing the stars and constellations. “What could I possible say that could beat this view?” As he stared into the abyss, Phil silently looked over at him. 

There wasn’t something particularly beautiful at Dan just from his face. But the way he held himself and talked and just  _ existed _ was so enrapturing. It easily better than the moon and the stars that twinkled above. 

It broke his heart to think Dan would never know just how absolutely stunning he was.

(Two hours)

-

They laid there, talking for god knows how long, when Dan brought up the existential crisis again.

“So . . . why do you think the dates of our death are printed on our body?” He asked, his hair a lost cause after spending so much time on the ground. Sleepily, Phil fluttered his eyelids shut.

“I don’t know . . . evolution? Fate?” He had spent long nights already pondering this, but he chose not to admit that to Dan.

“I think it’s complete bullshit, to be honest.” the brown haired man confessed openly. “People should be able to live their lives freely without the deadline of death literally told to them. It adds . . . I don’t know, more importance to stuff?”

“But,” Phil countered, his limbs feeling strangely tired. “This things lets people know what to spend their time on. I mean, there’s no point on working on some English project when you know it’s due after you’re dead?” He yawned, the night’s events finally catching up to him.

“That’s exactly it!” Dan frustratingly groaned. “Life is about making the most of the time you have, putting your 100% into everything without the deadline hanging over your head.” 

“Wow,” Phil muttered sleepily. “You really put some thought into this, huh?” Rolling over, he faced his body towards Dan’s.

“Yup,” was the response. “I think about these kinds of things a lot. Makes me wonder why certain people deserve longer lives, and some people get shorter ones.” The comment made him wonder if Dan knew.

There was a peaceful silence as the words sank in. Sympathetically, the moon began to turn away from their conversation as the sky began to lighten in the east.

(One hour)

-

“I have something to confess.” Phil admitted a while later. By that point, a strange, watery sunlight was washed over them, giving them the look of a faded photograph.

Dan nodded. “I do too.”

Phil swallowed nervously. “Ok, then. Um, you go first.” He was churning with anxiety at the thought of disappointing the other. 

The brown haired man refused to make eye contact. “Um . . . talking with you has really . . . it’s made me reassess my life. I think ― ” he fidgeted with the sleeves of his jumper. “I might have a will to live now. Life just seems brighter now.”

Phil felt like throwing up. There was no way he could say what he would after something so beautiful like that, but he couldn’t keep lying to Dan.

“I ― ” He didn’t know what to say. “God, I’m so sorry.” Hesitantly, he lifted his shirt to reveal the tattoo on the back. Dan widened his eyes at the date on it, and caught his breath when he saw the time. 

“You’re . . . you’re dying?” he stuttered. Sadly, Phil nodded. The black marks on his pale back seemed to taunt the two, crawling towards them and snatching the life they could have had. 

“You idiot,” Dan’s eyes couldn’t find it’s way to Phil’s. “How could you do this shit with me, and then not tell me that you were going to be dead, anyway?” He stood up, pacing the grassy ground.

“And I just . . . casually talked to you about death while you were going to be facing it, and I didn’t even . . .” he trailed off, the sobs stopping him from being able to finish his sentence. 

Dan sat down again, the brunt of the situation finally washing over him. “God, what is there left to do? I still have so many questions . . . and you’re going to be gone before there will be answers. Just, fuck ― ”

Silently, Phil hugged Dan. The emotional weight of the situation seemed a little less heavy when it was carried on both of their shoulder’s. 

“How could you do this to me?” Dan whispered into Phil’s ear, and he felt a pang in his chest as he heard the words. “I felt alive and now . . . god, I don’t even know.”

“It’ll be over soon,” Phil murmured, finding the condolences ironic. Shouldn’t he be the one being told it would be ok?

“You know, I was somewhere pretty close to loving you, you damn fool.” Dan sobbed, letting the tears embarrassingly stain Phil’s shirt. “And . . . just ― ”

“I kind of love you too,” The dying man held Dan close, afraid of letting go. Everything felt like a strange, washed-up dream that would be over soon.

“Tell me you’ll be ok,” Phil quietly demanded as they embraced. “Just . . . promise me that when I’m gone, you’ll be alright.”

Dan choked. His black coat suddenly felt too thin, and the cold of the outside refused to be warmed by Phil.  “I don’t know if I can do that ― ”

“Promise me.”

The brown haired man sucked in a sharp breath and nodded hesitantly against Phil’s shoulder. “Ok. I promise.” 

(Half an hour)

-

There wasn’t much left to do. 

They could cry more, they could jump off a cliff, they could do anything they wanted because the consequences no longer mattered. And yet, the grass begged them to stay. 

Phil could feel himself being dragged away, both towards the earth and towards the sky. It called to him, promising him that the oblivion was better than whatever the humble world had to offer. And yet, the black haired man reached his hands up and kissed Dan. 

The move surprised him, and Dan kissed back. But at that point, Phil wasn’t alive to see it. 

“I love you,” the brown haired man whispered. He gently lowered the body he was holding onto the soft, grassy ground.

The world started anew again around them. The sun slowly began its ascent towards the clouds above, the cars rumbled amiably on the roads, yet all Dan could do was stare at the Phil’s body. There were no tears left in him. There was nothing left to do except smile. 

And that’s what he did.

(0 hours)

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic! If you liked it, please leave a kudos and a comment, and I'll see y'all phan trash tomorrow. Bye!


End file.
